


Details

by DM (dragonmist310)



Category: DCU, Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/pseuds/DM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conner knew that Tim was complicated. And he also knew what he was signing on for when they started going out. He wants Tim to be absolutely sure about entering the next phase of their relationship, and Tim thinks that he is--but maybe, just maybe, they forgot a few details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Details

Conner knew that Tim was complicated. He was, as Winston Churchill had said, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. He’d only just barely paid attention during the history lesson about Russia or whatever it was. He’d remembered the quote only because it reminded him so much of Tim, but even that didn’t cover it. Tim was so….

It would be wrong to imply that Tim was _damaged_ in some way because that just wasn’t the right word. Just because someone had a lot of scars, emotional and physical, didn’t mean that they were damaged or broken like a piece of old hardware. People weren't like that. Tim had been tempered by the fires of his own personal Hell into someone with incredible strength. At the same time there was this little part of Tim that _was_ vulnerable and tender, but it was securely locked away from everyone by layers of steel and ice. That didn’t mean that Tim had grown cold. Maybe he was a little more melancholy than he’d been before but who wouldn’t be after everything he’d been forced to endure? Tim still smiled and laughed genuinely and still enjoyed the beauty that was life—maybe more now than before because they all came to realize just how precious it was. Conner knew Tim was carrying a lot of baggage but at least he’d let Conner carry some of the load. It meant that he was okay or that he would be okay with a little bit of time and love.

Conner knew what he was signing on for when he and Tim started dating. It had taken a little while for Tim to open up, of course, and their relationship was by no means easy. They never got to hang out as just Conner Kent and Tim Drake-Wayne as much as they wanted to, but at least they got to be together as Superboy and Red Robin regularly. When they were civilians, it was annoying avoiding the paparazzi sometimes but they’d grown used to it and had gotten pretty good at slipping away into a pocket of privacy even in public places. A lot of their early relationship consisted of mostly of conversation and just being in each other’s presence because at first it was difficult to find a quiet place to sneak off to and make out.

Lately they’d been making out a lot more often and they’d recently talked about sex because both of them were all about communication. Well, mostly Tim because it was in his nature to gather as much data as possible before compiling a set of suitable plans and contingencies. Conner hadn’t complained because one, he knew that’s what made Tim comfortable and two, he liked knowing exactly what Tim was comfortable with. It wasn’t that he was afraid of spooking him like a baby lamb or something, but he wanted Tim to feel _safe_ and never to feel pressured. Because Hell, that guy deserved to breathe once in a while, too.

Conner hadn’t asked but he assumed Tim still was a virgin. After all, no matter how many things changed Tim was still at his core _Tim_ , and if that was not the case he probably would have said something about it. Tim had been enthusiastic about it all, more-or-less, culminating in a pretty sweet make out session, but there was a little voice at the back of Conner’s head that told him that something was a little off. Nothing major, but just maybe a few details that he might have forgotten. However that voice was mostly ignored because it was hard to concentrate on other things when your genius boyfriend was amazing at kissing.

And then the opportunity struck just a few days later.

It wasn’t as romantic as Conner had hoped for. He’d imagined something like a candle-lit scene with otherwise dim lighting and bed sheets sprinkled with rose petals. He knew it was as cheesy and as cliché as you could get, but Tim deserved nothing but the best. Maybe he’d make it happen next time—or maybe he’d get advice from someone as to what was actually romantic and not cliché because Tim also deserved something unique. But at the time they had just been unwinding at Tim’s apartment after a successful mission. And by unwinding he meant kissing on the couch in the darkness.

Quite suddenly there were wandering hands and before he knew it Conner’s shirt had been lost on the floor as Tim explored his exposed torso with calloused hands. Conner moved away from Tim’s lips and onto his neck, tracing along a very faint scar that he didn’t remember from before. Tim’s collar proved problematic, obstructing his path, but that could be solved….

“You sure about this?” Conner asked, knowing that taking off Tim’s outfit could pretty much only end in one thing. Whatever they had between them was absolutely _electric_ tonight; all this energy from god-knows-where just waiting to be released spectacularly.

“Yeah. Help me out of this thing,” Tim urged. Conner did as he was instructed and once the both of them were down to their boxers, he was ordered, “Bed.” Conner obliged again and scooped him up bridal-style, silencing the indignant noise he made with a kiss.

He easily navigated past the unpacked boxes and clutter that lined the living room floor. Apparently Tim hadn’t had the time to clean which was saying something because everything was also so prim and proper with him. The bedroom was only a little better—books stacked here and there, unorganized and clothes only half in the hamper, though at least the bed was neatly made. Conner though it was kind of sexy, actually, that not everything was so neat. And his boyfriend certainly wasn’t at the present moment, at least.

He laid Tim down on the soft sheets gently, experience granting him the ability to do so without breaking their kiss. But he did, just so he could see how undone Tim was already, his hair in complete disarray, his lips glimmering red from kissing, and his pupils blown wide with lust so his blues eyes were nearly black. He was blushing—the pinkness stretching down to his chest which was littered with scars that Conner paid special attention to with his kisses. As he progressed further downwards, he noticed the way Tim shivered (which was normal) after a particularly well-placed kiss, and then the way he seemed to be trembling (which _could_ be normal if it was for the right reason)—almost imperceptibly were it not for Conner’s Kryptonian senses which were all focused on Tim at the present moment.

“Nervous?” he asked, both genuinely and a little teasingly. Tim looked down at him with half-lidded eyes and quirked an eyebrow as if to as if to ask if it mattered, but it did in fact matter to Conner. He looked back, holding Tim’s gaze with a raised eyebrow of his own. They had this way of communicating without words sometimes and apparently it worked this time too, because he was able to coax out an actual answer.

“A little,” Tim admitted, his voice steady either with confidence or practice. With his super hearing Conner heard that Tim’s heartbeat was steady too, though a little elevated but that just meant that he wasn’t trying some weird meditation technique to keep it down—and that was a good sign because it meant that he actually wanted this.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Conner reminded him gently, all the while kissing down his stomach. “There are other things—”

“I swear to God that if you don’t carry through with this—” Tim started, gasping softly when Conner pulled his leg up to kiss the inside of his thigh, “I will make you _eat_ Kryptonite.”

“Yes sir,” Conner murmured as he smirked against the warm skin. He took the death threat as a green light, taking a moment to share a particularly intense heat-filled gaze. He wondered for a second, however, if it was the post-mission adrenaline that had Tim so hot-and-bothered or actual desire for sex. But those thoughts flew out the window when Tim decided that things were moving too slow and wrapped those long, flexible legs of his around Conner and pulled him close— _real close_.

 

 

The pleasure was intense. More intense than anything Tim had ever experienced before and _dear lord was this what he had been missing_? They had fooled around before but nothing beat _this._ It might’ve been painful at the start, but trust went a long way to being relaxed and being relaxed went a long way in ensuring less pain and more pleasure. And wow was that word inadequate for what he was feeling. Not to mention that Conner had been persistently slow and worried about hurting him—which was admittedly very sweet.

After the initial sharp feeling, it went to uncomfortable, then to only slightly uncomfortable, then a little strange, and then, with a bit of awkward maneuvering, Conner had managed to hit that one spot _just right_ and Tim had seen stars. It wasn’t like he’d been totally silent throughout the previous events, but he wasn’t much of a screamer, he supposed. Though after that, he’d thrown his head back as a moan in the form of Conner’s name was ripped from his lungs; low, deep, and so erotic that he doubted for a moment whether or not it was his own voice. He’d get around to being embarrassed about it later but for the time being he was only capable of curling his toes into the sheets and holding onto Conner’s shoulders for dear life. And thank god that Conner was Kryptonian because otherwise he’d probably break the skin.

“Kon…,” he heard himself breathe out, much softer than before. “Please,” he begged, not quite sure of what he was asking for but certain that Conner would understand, nonetheless.

“Tim,” Conner responded, his breath hot against Tim’s neck, as if his body didn’t already feel like it’d been set alight. They were both slick with sweat and scorching with passion.

“I—I can’t—” Tim warned when he felt all the muscles in his body starting to go rigid—his body feeling like taut like a wire about to snap. A new, intense wave of pleasure was starting to pool somewhere deep inside, immobilizing him completely.

“I got you—just let go, let go,” Conner beckoned, the strain in his voice indicating that only his Kryptonian stamina was holding him back.

Tim did as he was told, not sure of how he managed it, and suddenly felt his orgasm wash over him, white-hot and extreme. He was only able to get out half of his moan—the other getting caught in his throat. He heard Conner groan his name as he also tumbled over the edge, joining Tim in satisfaction that was bone-deep.

Conner rolled off of him and Tim—already feeling like his mind was made of putty and unable to form so much as a coherent thought—was jostled by the sudden lack of physical contact. But before he knew it, Conner was wrapping his strong arms around his waist and pulling the blankets over them. Tim assumed that what he must have been feeling must be the often-cited afterglow, and it certainly was nice.

Though as he looked into Conner’s eyes, which were filled with nothing but pure _love_ , he felt a little strange. He wasn’t sure why or even in what way he felt strange, just that no one ever mentioned this part—was it normal?

And then it hit him.

It was like being kicked in the chest by Solomon Grundy. He looked away from Conner and back towards the ceiling as he managed to let out a wheeze. _No, no, no, no_ , he instructed his mind, but to no avail.

“Tim?” Conner asked, fear in his voice as he sat up with urgency, looking down at Tim with concern.

“I—” Tim managed to choke out before a sob welled up in his chest and, without permission, let itself out.

Oh god, he was crying. He was crying and he didn’t know _why_.

“Shit—Tim, did I hurt you?” Conner asked, a frantic look on his face as his eyes scanned for any bruises that weren’t there before.

“I-It’s not that—I just—” Tim gasped when he could. He reached out with his hands as if he was blind and Conner caught them, holding them in a tight grip. He didn’t know what to do—he hadn’t planned for this.

“Then what’s wrong?” Conner was trying to seem calm, but Tim knew him well enough to know that he was freaking out—but that made two of them. Oh god, Conner probably though he was insane. He had read somewhere that the surge of hormones post-orgasm could make one feel profound emotion to the point of actual crying and maybe that’s what this was. Yes, it was certainly easier to rationalize it with science, but no, he still couldn’t force himself to calm down, aware that there was still a steady stream of tears coming from his eyes.

It was so surreal to see Conner hovering over him, holding his hands against the superhuman warmth of his chest. His eyes were the most ethereal shade of blue—almost the same shade as blue kryptonite, ironically—and quite honestly everything about him was so beautiful and perfect, as if he was a sculptor’s masterpiece brought to life. It was hard to believe that someone as perfect as Conner could love someone as flawed as him.

“ _You_ are perfect—to me… you’re the definition of perfect,” Conner said suddenly with a distressed look, almost startling Tim. Kryptonians didn’t have telepathy, so Tim figured that he’d just said some of his insecurities aloud, without meaning to. But it was too late to take them back. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Tim felt something else well up in him—not sadness but something as alien as it was familiar. He thought for a moment to hold it back in but Hell, he was already crying after having sex with his boyfriend for the first time, so how much worse could it get?

“I love you,” he whispered. The words seemed to pull themselves from his lips, leaving him breathless and feeling more vulnerable than he had ever let himself feel before. There he was, completely laid bare—both figuratively and literally—as a part of him was yelling at the other. Hadn’t he learned his lesson all those times before? He waited for the heartbreak to come when Conner didn’t answer but instead continued to stare at him, mouth open.

Another wave of tears started to well up in his eyes, making the whole world blurry as he realized that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. What if Conner didn’t feel that way yet and Tim had totally just jumped the gun—ruining it all? What if he had misinterpreted everything? This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. He tried to take a breath to steady himself but instead he found that he couldn’t, paralyzed with a fear worse than anything he’d ever felt facing down even the nastiest of villains.

But then a smile blossomed on Conner face. His eyes also misty, he said, “I love you too.”

And suddenly Tim could breathe again.

He gasped for air as if it were the most precious commodity on Earth. Conner lay back down next to him and pulled him close, kissing his forehead. Tim threw his arms around Conner, just letting himself sob silently into his wonderful partner’s chest and easily settling into the warmth. Conner rubbed soothing patterns into his back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, trying to calm him down as he simply held on.

Tim didn’t even know why he was still crying. Maybe it was all the emotions he had compartmentalized and repressed for _so long_ finally running free all at once. He’d been told many times that it wasn’t healthy to hold it all in, but he’d never seen a problem in it before. Of course now here he was, eating his own words and feeling absolutely like a wimp. But at least Conner was here—the one person he trusted with his entire being and _oh my god they’d said those three words to each other_. That was something else to cry about too, but not out of sadness or confusion.

“Let it all out,” Conner encouraged warmly, wiping away Tim’s tears and simultaneously earning the Best Significant Other of the Year award.

“Sorry,” Tim whispered after a while, grateful that at least his head felt clearer now. Conner smiled at him with a little chuckle.

“For what? You know if you held it all in forever you’d end up exploding one day and wouldn’t _that_ be a Hell of a mess?” Conner said, kissing the tip of Tim’s nose.

“It’s messy now!” Tim argued, resting their foreheads together.

“What’s wrong with a few tears?” Tim shrugged—maybe there was nothing wrong with it. Better here and now like this than having it all come out in an otherwise violent way. “But we’re also the sexy kind of messy which is pretty hot.”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh. In risk of ruining the moment, he didn’t want to ask how being covered in sweat and other bodily fluids could ever be deemed _sexy_ when all he wanted to do was take a shower. But he was too comfortable and, dare he admit it, happy, to really care. He’d regret it in the morning, probably, but suddenly he was very tired and very content just to lie here with Conner forever.

“Maybe we should have talked about a few more things before this,” Tim concluded.

“Looks like we forgot the details, huh?” Conner asked.

“Just a few.” He never fashioned himself as someone who would cuddle, but he tucked his head under Conner’s chin and sighed contentedly.

“I wish we could stay like this forever—just the two of us,” Conner said, tangling their legs together.

“Me too.” Tim felt oddly at ease—completely and utterly comfortable and _blissful_ —and felt the delicate haze of sleep starting to overtake him. He let it, lulled in part by the way he and Conner breathed in unison and the feeling of Conner’s strong heart beating underneath his palm.

 

 

The warm rays of the morning sun streamed in from the windows, shining through the slits in the blinds and through the curtains they’d forgotten to draw the night before, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Conner awoke to the warmth of the rays on his skin, re-energizing him like he really was solar-powered battery. But Tim was still fast asleep and still tightly curled against him, with only a sheet covering the both of them. They’d woken up in bed together before, but not like this—no, this was the Morning After, and this was _Tim_. This was different. This was special.

However, Conner felt a little stupid for not making sure Tim had been _absolutely ready_. He’d been fairly ready, sure, but maybe there were things that should have been made clear, first. They hadn’t quite confessed their love for each other before, but it had always been there, implied. Or at least, so he’d thought. He had no qualms saying it aloud—he’d wanted to, even since before they’d begun dating—but he just didn’t want to freak Tim out. Tim had said “I love you” to other people before. He knew about Arianna and Steph (and even that thing with Tam). But Tim had changed since then and what the two of them had was different. He was afraid of rushing things, but maybe he’d been _too_ careful.

Though it was all said and done at this point and it worked out for the better. So there was that. He just watched Tim sleep for a while, appreciating how peaceful and _lovely_ he looked. Eventually his eyelids fluttered open and Conner got to see those pretty gray-blue eyes, bleary and tired until he blinked a few times and smiled. And man, Conner thought, could he get used to that sight.

“Hey,” Conner said. A different kind of warmth filled him—not the type that came from the sun but the type that came from something even more powerful.

“Hey,” Tim returned. They shared a simple kiss, short and chaste, and Tim moved away after that with a soft groan.

“You okay?” Conner asked, wondering if Tim was in pain. It _had_ been his first time, after all, and despite all the preparation they’d done it’d probably still hurt.

“Yeah. Doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” Tim said, sitting up and stretching a little. Conner sat up as well, watching the way Tim’s muscles flexed with the actions. He was so resilient and gorgeous in ways Conner just couldn’t fathom.

“You’re so beautiful,” Conner told him. Tim looked at him for a moment, from underneath those long eyelashes of his, and turned away, blushing with a little smile on his face. And Conner had meant what he said last night. To him, Tim was perfect. Every flaw he might’ve had only added to the reasons why Conner loved him so much. Tim was his muse, astounding him and inspiring him all at once.

“Thanks,” Tim said in a quiet little voice and Conner decided that a blushing, shy Tim was just way too cute.

“Why don’t you go take a shower? I know you’re dying to get all cleaned up. I’ll make breakfast,” Conner suggested, kissing him on the cheek.

“You can cook?” Tim asked, surprised.

“I can do a lot of things!” Conner insisted. Tim laughed, but nodded.

“See you in a few, then.” Conner watched Tim slip gracefully out of bed—with a sort of elegance only he was capable of—and into the nearby bathroom. The two of them still had a lot to talk about, that much was for sure. But, as they did with the rest of their relationship, they’d do it one thing at a time. Their relationship was, and would probably continue to be, complicated, but Conner wouldn’t have it any other way. And right now, he had breakfast (the first of many to come) to make for the man he loved the most.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired in part by a late-night Discovery Channel documentary and also by a very interesting discussion with a friend. Thanks for the idea, Zei!


End file.
